


Mycroft's Property

by Rarepair



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, Implied Relationship, M/M, Possessive Mycroft, Rough handling, clash of wills, implied sexual tension, jimcroft - Freeform, mentions of physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rarepair/pseuds/Rarepair
Summary: Jim's interrogation upsets Mycroft.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thediogenes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thediogenes/gifts).



> Originally posted on Tumblr.

Jim stretched his neck as he listened to the creak of the door on his cell as someone swung it closed. He licked at the corner of his lip where it stung and tasted salt and minerals; blood. The guard must have had practice with his backhand. He had known just where to strike.     

A light slap of leather footsteps on concrete sounded at Jim’s back. Very few men wore such slippery shoes anymore. Most modern men’s dress shoes typically had rubber in the soles. However, he knew the person who moved quietly behind him revelled in his patronage of all things traditional. A smile caused Jim’s lips to pull up at the corners. He experienced a dart of pain then closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. The visitor’s aftershave was distinctive with notes of fresh tobacco leaves, citrus and oak moss.      

“Mmm,” Jim murmured, “you really cannot resist a classic, can you, Mr. Holmes? Vetiver? How camp.”     

Jim heard a derisive sniff.      

“I am Mr. Holmes now, am I?”     

Jim’s eyes flew open. He whirled on his seat with the broadest grin.     

“Oh, you will always be Mr. Holmes to me,” he replied emphatically.     

Mycroft squinted at Jim. One eyelash twitched. Jim wriggled in his seat with barely contained glee. The presence of this particular Holmes wearing a slim-fitting black suit, crisp cream shirt and foulard tie made him feel as if he were sitting in a room with a Van de Graaff generator. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the power the man represented. Mycroft Holmes, for all his propriety, was an arc flash waiting to happen. Jim wanted this so badly. He was dying for it.     

Mycroft scanned Jim’s face critically. Something sparked in the depths of his eyes and he strode forward. His gaze flicked down to Jim’s lips and he frowned.       

“Tsk, tsk, I see my agent has marred your face,” he reached into an interior pocket of his blazer, pulled out a folded scrap of silk and offered it, “my apologies.”      

Jim didn’t take the kerchief. He only smiled and lifted his chin in a challenge to Mycroft as the lean man towered over him. A dribble of blood dripped from his cut. For a second, Mycroft regarded the fluid with what seemed like cool impassivity as he stared down the length of his patrician nose. Then, to Jim’s utter shock and delight, the great Holmes reached forward and pressed the kerchief to his lip.      

“You do care,” Jim said sardonically against the soft fabric, he leaned into the press of it.      

A smile ghosted Mycroft’s lips. “I would not quite say that.”      

In the next instant, Mycroft’s fingers slid over Jim’s scalp and curled a fistful of his locks. Jim felt his head tugged back.      

“Then what would you say?” He asked breathlessly as he stared up into steely blue eyes.      

“I do not care to see my property vandalized,” Mycroft replied in a low, menacing murmur while he scanned Jim’s face once more, “especially the facade.”

Jim licked his tongue over his teeth. He was suddenly struck with a bout of nerves. His stomach clenched.       

“Don’t worry, it will heal,” he tittered, “and I’ll be pretty again soon, but I must warn you, the inside’s a right mess.”      

Mycroft dropped his chin. His eyes narrowed and blinked lazily. 

“Well, fortunately for us both, I am an expert at remediation.”


End file.
